


Only Human

by Artrix



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Gen, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 03:11:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11546280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artrix/pseuds/Artrix
Summary: They didn’t expect that making it through Dracula’s Castle was going to be easy, but neither did Trevor expect that he’d be taken down so easily by a trap. Wounded, he has to rely on Alucard and Sypha to recover.





	Only Human

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the request: “would you maybe consider writing a fic where trevor gets hurt and sypha & alucard have to help him?”

It should have been expected that Dracula’s castle would have been full of traps. Alucard had warned them on the way in that the trip would have brought them danger in the form of more than just monsters. He’d spent a good five minutes talking about how the castle was, in its own way, alive. It was constantly changing, taking form as whatever incarnation best reflected its master.

Dracula did not know that he had a Belmont to deal with, or that he had with him a sorceress and his own son, but the castle knew, in its own way.

Alucard had taken over leading the group. Despite his warning that the castle may be different than the one in his memory, it made sense to have the dhampir go first. 

Sypha was polite enough to insist that it was because he probably had better eyes than them, and his familiarity with things before might help them now.

Trevor didn’t care, because a vampire in front of him meant he didn’t have to worry about teeth in his neck while his back was turned.

They had been walking for three hours; it was dark and they were tired, but none of them would say anything. Sypha was the worst of all of them; she had been awake for nearly a day straight but pushed herself as much as she could to keep up with vampire and hunter. For the most part, she was doing well enough; when they encountered an enemy, her adrenaline pushed her to focus.

But they had seen no enemies for over half an hour now, and despite her slow, careful steps, she could have nodded off at any moment.

Trevor, behind her, had been too focused on the dark corners they passed. Alucard, in front of her, hadn’t looked back.

She stepped on a tiny brick, barely different from the rest of the cobbled floor. 

Alucard heard the tick of machinery from somewhere in the room and Trevor caught a glint of light only a second before a metal pole shifted positions in the wall high above them.

Sypha was pushing herself too hard and didn’t notice the sound or shine of metal shooting from the wall in front of them.

Alucard twisted to grab her arm and yank her out of the way, but it was Trevor who reached her first; he wrapped his arms around her and spun as quickly as he could, trying to draw her out of the way and spare himself injury.

He had misjudged the angle of the metal spear that flew through the air; if Alucard had not gripped Sypha’s arm and pulled, it would have skewered Trevor fully right through his middle. Instead, it clipped his side.

It was by no means a simply injury; the metal was thick enough that it tore out a chunk of his flesh immediately. Trevor felt the warmth of blood spilling down his side before the pain registered, but when it _hit_ him, even _his_ vision went black.

He grunted, as if he’d done something as simple as stub a toe, but Alucard could tell immediately that this was _bad_.

The smell of blood caused the hair on the back of his neck to bristle; his pupils dilated and he hated himself because in that moment, instead of thinking about his companion he was thinking about a _meal_.

Sypha was the last to know what had just happened; as soon as Trevor grabbed her and tried to fling her to the side, she’d jostled to full awareness. Trevor’s arms were still tight around her and she couldn’t spin to see his face but she could see Alucard’s and she knew that something was very wrong.

“Belmont,” she gasped, trying to spin in his arms. To her surprise, his grip was weak and she was able to pull away. “Are you—”

All right?

No. No, he wasn’t. A good three inches of his shirt had been completely torn from his side, but what scared her most was that she could _see_ where his flesh should have been.

“I’m fine,” the hunter replied stupidly, as if she were expected to believe it. He seemed almost dumbfounded at the injury and had to reach down to _touch_ it. Or, touch the air where flesh and blood _should_ have been. “Oh,” he muttered. “Mostly fine, at least.”

He angled his head just slightly, as if he didn’t trust that it was his own blood spilling from the gaping injury. He turned just slightly to eye the projectile impaled in the wall. With a bit of his shirt.

With a bit of him.

Alucard stared, frozen in place. Not because he didn’t know how to handle an injury, but because a year of sleep had made him hungry. He was rusty, unrefined, and no matter how much blood he’d had prepared for him while he slept in his coffin, _fresh_ blood, _warm_ blood, was a drug he almost could not fight off.

His eyes glinted with the fierceness of a starving predator and he took a step forward, helpless to the needs of his own body.

Trevor was dazed enough that he didn’t notice the piercing look in the man’s eyes, or the way Alucard’s hand trembled. The way his fangs grew.

Sypha did; she reached a hand out to grip his arm. “Alucard,” she demanded, “You have to help him. Belmont, lie down.”

Alucard paused, clarity returning to his mind briefly. He had to repeat the name in his head—Belmont. _Belmont_. A hunter, from a family of hunters, who he _needed_ to defeat his father and stop his army of demons.

“Bullshit,” Trevor muttered under his breath, with a bravado he seemed intent not to shake. “I’m not lying on this ground, it’s filthy. Got blood all over it.”

_His blood_ , Sypha wanted to say, but she didn’t. Instead, she took two swift strides and put her hands on Trevor’s shoulders so she could push him down into a sitting position. He didn’t resist; his knees buckled and he hit the ground with little grace before settling into a seated position. He was close enough to the wall that he could lean back and rest against it. He cupped the injury in his hand and applied what pressure he could, but blood pumped in slow, steady streams.

“We have to stop the bleeding,” she said, to no one in particular.

Alucard stood hesitantly behind her, struggling to maintain the carefully constructed exterior. 

He was one bite, one lick away from the monster he’d spent his whole life trying to keep buried, and here was Belmont, _gushing_ blood.

Sypha didn’t wait for him; she was already reaching for the hem of her skirt and one of Trevor’s knives. Within a few seconds of effort she managed to slice a good chunk of fabric off of her outfit. 

Trevor didn’t stop her; his eyes had found Alucard. He watched as the man struggled with himself, watched as his hands clenched into trembling fists and as his chest expanded and deflated fiercely as he strained to keep his breathing even.

“You enjoying this, _Vampire_?” he asked dryly. 

Alucard’s eyes met his. “Is there anything enjoyable about you, Belmont?”

Trevor sneered halfheartedly. He had been injured before, but he’d been lucky. Even the worst of his scars had been skin deep and only that. Cosmetic mistakes that he could tease made him look more rugged and intimidating. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen so much blood from any one person.

This much blood was regular in the monsters that he fought, but…

They were dying.

So then…

He was dying?

Like this, from a trap? Not in a blaze of glory, not defending the innocents, not a hero?

He was dying, in a rank tunnel, with a Speaker and a Vampire. They would have to continue on their journey; they’d have to leave his corpse here to rot.

The Belmont name would die with him, disgraced.

He shuddered and pressed harder, willing the bleeding to stop.

It wouldn’t.

He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he thought he heard Sypha’s voice. Everything seemed strange and warbled, like an echo of a whisper traveling on the wind. The only thing he could hear was his heart beating, each thump slightly softer, slightly slower than the last.

Sypha was prepared to wrap the wound already; she reached to press the cloth against his gaping wound, but Alucard stopped her. “Don’t. Don’t do that, yet. The bleeding won’t stop unless you cauterize it.”

Her eyes flashed and she spun her head around to look at him. “Cauterize?” she repeated. She seemed astonished that he would suggest such a thing, and horrified. Sypha was a healer; she had tended to gruesome injuries, but she had never cauterized anyone before. She had never seared a man’s flesh while he was alive.

Alucard could sense that she was going to insist that she had no means to, but he had not forgotten the tiny ball of flame she had threatened him with when he’d first fought the hunter. “Your magic. You need to summon your flame.”

Sypha’s heart pounded in her chest; he could smell the fear on her. “I can’t,” she said, pleading more so than protesting.

“You must. Or Belmont will die, and so will all of Wallachia. There is no end to this story without a Hunter, and Belmont is the best that we have.”

Sypha swallowed; her heart was racing as fast as her mind. Desperately, she sought to find some alternative, but in her heart she knew there wasn’t one. She was still fighting against the idea when she summoned a tiny orb of flame in her hand. “I can’t,” she repeated. She was trembling.

“We are losing him,” Alucard said from behind her. He was forcing himself not to look at the blood. Trevor’s grip was weakening and his blood still flowed. He was pale and his breathing was growing strained despite the hunter’s best efforts to take forceful, deep breaths.

“We can’t,” Sypha whispered. She held the tiny orb close to Trevor’s bleeding side but faltered once more. 

If it didn’t work, it was just torture, and Sypha couldn’t bear the thought. It was bad enough already that shadows of doubt had begun to cloud her mind. Was this her fault? Had he tripped the trap, or did she? She could remember his arms around her, and nothing more. “I’m sorry,” she blurted, turning to look at Alucard once more.

He was quiet, stoic, for a moment; he had done his best to keep his distance from them, from the blood, but he did not have her reservations or fears. He moved behind Sypha and dropped to his knees. He wrapped one arm around her waist to stabilize her and with his other, pulled Trevor’s hand from the injury.

The sight was as disgusting as it was beautiful, and Alucard resented the duality of human and monster that warred inside of him. 

But, he did not falter. Instead, he drew his hand back, all but lacing fingers with Sypha before he guided her hand to the injury. Her magic did not falter, and his movements did not.

Before she could think or protest, he pushed her hand, her flame, into Trevor’s wound.

It was as awful as she thought it would be.

Trevor screamed, a hoarse, tortured sound. He thrashed as much as his body could manage and tried to pull away, but Sphya shoved her free hand out to rest on his shoulder and hold him in place. Tears welled in her eyes, not out of weakness, but sympathy. She might have only held the flame there for a few seconds, but it felt like hours.

Hours of Trevor’s screams, to remind her that he was as human as she was. He was flesh and blood and if he hadn’t grabbed her, maybe she would be in his place, only dying because she couldn’t have held that flame to herself. Her stomach twisted in guilty knots and she was _sorry_ , her fault or not.

If she hadn’t set the trap, she was still the one burning him.

It wasn’t just the screams, though. It was the smell.

It was a repulsive stench and not something she’d likely ever forget. Even death was a more pleasant smell than this—maybe, just because, _she was doing this_ , to Trevor.

To a man who was supposed to be her friend, her—

“Stop,” Alucard commanded. “Stay still.”

To her? To him?

The flame in her hand had flickered just slightly and she realized that now was an absolutely inopportune to be distracted. She would not let her fear control her. 

Trevor wouldn’t die, not if she did this right.

He would hurt, but he would survive. He had to, he didn’t have an option. He could just suck it up and _live_.

The flame in her hand burned brighter for a few seconds before Alucard drew her hand away. “Wrap it,” he said, eyes on the seared flesh. He stood almost immediately afterwards and announced, “I must go.”

Sypha protested with a quick, “But—”

Alucard interrupted before she could make an argument. “We need supplies, and I will travel quicker alone. You will stay with him.”

Sypha shuddered; Trevor was silent now and she supposed unconscious, if only because she couldn’t imagine anything else. She nodded and reached for Trevor’s cheek, cupping it reassuringly.

He was not a perfect man, but he had saved her life twice so far. More, if she counted how careful he had been to see to her survival just before they’d reached Alucard’s chamber. 

The corner of his lip twitched and she knew he was alive; if he was unconscious, it was a blessing.

Faintly, she heard the rustle of clothes behind her and then realized that Alucard had removed his coat and was passing it to her. “Lay him down. I will return shortly.”

She nodded and accepted the coat, determined to make the best of this situation yet. Alucard was gone before she could tell him to hurry, so she drew in a breath and focused on Trevor. The bleeding had stopped, but he was still sitting in a pool of his own blood. She didn’t want to risk moving him too much and causing further damage, so she quickly bandaged him with the fabric she’d cut from her garb before carefully maneuvering him so that he was lying down. It took only a short burst of her wind magic to move him from the blood. 

He didn’t react but her job was far from done; she began to hastily tug at the belts he wore. Disarming him felt like a crime in itself; though he didn’t seem to awaken, his hand went for hers when she tried to pull the whip from his belt. She brushed it aside but made sure that when his hand fell he could still feel the coarse leather of his favored weapon.

After a moment of tugging, she pried the red fabric from his waist and wondered what purpose he had intended for that part of his outfit to be; it reminded her of some half skirt or robe, but whatever it was she couldn’t blame him for wanting extra fabric between him and the ground he was out sleeping on. He would have to suffer the cold of the floor for now, though; she bundled the red fabric and placed it carefully behind his head as a makeshift pillow before laying Alucard’s coat over him.

There was little more to do but wait; there was no medicine or food or drink to help him now, and Sypha could do nothing more than hope that the scent of blood didn’t attract any monsters down here.

She was afraid that even the light might attract more creatures than she could handle.

She was a capable warrior, but she was human, and her body was weakened with fatigue. She had pushed her limits well beyond what she knew them to be, but if ever there was a time she needed to go above and beyond, it was now, on this quest to defeat Dracula.

But there was nothing she could do but sit and wait for Alucard to return, or sit and wait for Trevor to die.

Quietly, she took a seat close to Trevor’s head. He was still unconscious, but she could hear his breath, as slow as it was strong, in the otherwise silent room. Her body begged for sleep, but she refused, determined to stay alert and keep him safe.

The room was barely illuminated with the castle’s strange, natural light; it took her eyes a moment to adjust after her fire had burned away. When she could see again, she looked at his sleeping form. His brows were furrowed, face contorted in a grimace even in his unconsciousness.

Once again, he had put her well-being above his own—a great feat, she imagined, for a man who seemed more concerned with alcohol than altruism.

But, he wasn’t all bad. On the surface, he was a rude man with limited morals and a gruff demeanor that said ‘I don’t give a shit about anything’, but in private, behind the façade, she was starting to get to know a very _different_ man.

One, she imagined, was more in line with what she had expected from the stories passed on to her. 

Sypha sighed and finally caved into the desire to offer what reassurance she could. She reached out and gently combed her fingers through his hair. She had expected his locks would be as gruff as he was, but instead was met with surprising smoothness. 

Trevor was full of surprises, it seemed. She hoped he had a few more up his sleeve.

There was no telling how much time had passed between when Alucard left and when he returned; the only way for Sypha to pass the time was listening to Trevor’s quiet breathing, and her own.

Alucard did not make any noise before arriving; she had awaited his footsteps, but the only sound to announce his arrival was a gust of wind and what she had originally mistaken as the soft flapping of wings.

Alucard did not have to adjust to the light; he approached the two without hesitation. “Has he awakened?” he asked, voice softer than Sypha expected.

She was tired, _so tired_. “No. He’s still breathing, though.”

The dhampir grunted a quiet response, but it was more than she expected.

Sypha shifted positions to see Alucard better. “What did you find?”

“My mother was a doctor,” he explained. “Though her practice has been dead as long as she has.”

There was a sadness in his voice, like he had to say the words to register them as fact, still. He continued after a moment, “I have some things I think she would have prescribed. Bandages, and medicines, to fight off infection. And meat, if he can stomach it.”

Sypha paused. “You went to Gresit?”

Alucard paused and then shrugged. “No. A warg crossed my path. I had to put it down.”

Truthfully, he sought it out. His body demanded blood, and where he could resist the call of Trevor’s, he would not risk putting himself in a position to be so weak for it again. He drank a stomachful of blood, and filled a few bottles to save for later, should weakness strike again.

The hunter could have used blood himself but Alucard had no means to deliver any to him, even _if_ there were another human crawling the castle. He had not considered Sypha an option; she needed her strength as much as he did.

He did not mention the blood he had tucked away for himself; their alliance was too new for him to even broach the topic of his more monstrous nature.

Sypha was only moderately surprised; she nodded.

After a few seconds of silence, Alucard added, “And wine.”

Sypha blinked. “What? Why?”

“A small comfort, I thought. I didn’t think it would last long enough to be a burden to carry.”

Trevor’s voice, low and gruff, suddenly interrupted: “I want it.”

He had the attentive gaze of both of his companions immediately. Sypha exclaimed his name and Alucard breathed a soft sigh of relief.

“I think you should sleep first,” Alucard warned.

“I think I should drink first. Listen, if you don’t give it to me, I’ll just be miserable.”

“How long have you been awake?” Sypha demanded, all but ignoring his request.

There was a moment where Alucard could tell the hunter was about to lie, when his heart skipped a beat. Apparently, Trevor decided against it, and answered, “I’m a light sleeper. It’s not wise to sleep too deeply when monsters linger.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“A few moments only.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Trevor cracked an eye to look at the demanding speaker. “You would have worried. I didn’t want you fussing over me. I’m alive, aren’t I? Let’s just leave it at that. If you ask too many questions, I think I might decide not to wake up at all next time.”

Sypha snorted indignantly; she was far from Trevor’s idea of a ladylike woman, but he liked that about her. He liked her, in general, albeit he liked her more when she wasn’t the one setting off traps.

“If you’re tired, you should rest,” Alucard said to silence both of them. “I have had enough sleep. I will stand watch.”

Relief watched over Sypha; the concept of sleep was too welcoming. “All right,” she said before Alucard could change his mind or Trevor could protest.

A few seconds passed and then Trevor agreed, “All right, but about that drink…”

Alucard sighed heavily and rummaged through his bag before pulling out a bottle. An act of kindness, he even opened it for Trevor before passing it over. Though Trevor reached for it, Alucard realized it would have been unwise to have the man sit up.

He held the bottle back and commanded, “Open your mouth.”

He could see Trevor make a face in the darkness. “I don’t like that tone.”

“But if you like your wine, you’ll do as I say.”

Trevor debated, but in the end he was too tired to argue. He opened his mouth lazily. 

Carefully, Alucard tipped the wine so a thin trail of liquid poured into Trevor’s mouth. He watched closely, making sure not to over pour, and pausing to give Trevor a few seconds to swallow between each mouthful. 

“That’s the good stuff,” Trevor said after a moment.

“I have some taste, Belmont.”

Trevor snorted; he’d only had a few sips before raising his hand to indicate that he was done. Getting drunk was apparently not the intention for tonight or, perhaps, Trevor just knew that tomorrow was going to be worse. He would probably sleep easily tonight, if not just because of how much blood he’d lost.

Alucard could smell Trevor’s blood, dried and crusted on the floor in the distance. Sypha’s magic had cauterized the wound enough that it was no longer appealing.

“This meat won’t take long to spoil. It’s edible, though. And better than rats. I’ll wake you in a bit.”

Sypha grunted in response; she was busy trying to make a comfortable nest on the floor. She didn’t need a soft bed; she had been falling asleep sitting up before.

Trevor was far from a gentleman, but he heard her scuffling on the ground and insisted, “You can have his coat.”

Alucard raised a brow but did not protest; he knew Sypha would not accept it, not when she was as worried about Trevor’s well-being as she was.

“I don’t need it,” she huffed. “You’ve lost too much blood. You’ll catch cold.”

“I’m thick skinned,” Trevor answered tiredly. “You can’t kill me so easily.”

“You’re only human. I won’t have you freeze to death. We need you.”

“How sweet,” Trevor purred, but Sypha quickly added, “Because of the Prophecy, Belmont! Nothing more!”

“Well, that’s a shame. I was going to invite you to share it with me.”

Sypha was glad for the dimly lit room; her face was red.

Alucard, though silent, was amused.

Humans were interesting creatures, but his companions had a uniqueness about them. He couldn’t simply chalk it up to ‘prophecies’, but it was easiest to do so.

Sypha was stubborn and wouldn’t agree to lie next to Trevor, and he was too tired to argue—or ask, if it was something he’d really wanted. They lay near to each other, Trevor on his back and Sypha a few feet away, using her arm as a pillow.

Alucard kept a bit of distance and started a fire; the meat would have been fine for a while but aside from patrolling this room he had little to do than watch the flames.

Sometime, in the hour or two that Alucard let them sleep, Sypha had become restless. She rolled, twice—once to face Trevor, and once to latch onto him. Maybe it was just his warmth in the cold room, or maybe in sleep she could admit how relieved he was that he was alive. Trevor had moved, only slightly, to share Alucard’s coat with her.

When the smell of meat cooking awakened them, neither spoke of it.

Trevor was insisting they get moving again, but half a bottle of wine later and Sypha had convinced them that they could rest for a while longer.

Alucard didn’t mind the peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I was intending for this to be a one shot so I am not sure if I want to write any more for it, but I don't know if I've made up my mind yet!
> 
> If you have any requests, please check out my profile for information!


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